


I Was Burying Myself, and You Were Digging Me Out

by cuckooky



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Whipped, Min Yoongi | Suga Is a Sweetheart, References to Depression, if you know you know, it's like that numbness with depression that happens even after a good day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 06:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20305147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuckooky/pseuds/cuckooky
Summary: When Jungkook feels like there's nothing, there's always Yoongi.





	I Was Burying Myself, and You Were Digging Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i wrote this when i was feeling depressed, but i didn't know how to convey it. you know, when it's just one of those days. take care of your mental health, folks.

Jungkook fidgets with his fingers as he watches the minutes tick away on his phone, his professor nearly done with the lecture. His heart pounds, racing, fueling his anxiety and he twitches, desperate to escape the presence of so many people. Tears prick at his eyes in sadness and frustration, not because anyone did anything to him. Not because he was tired or hungry. Not because he had a bad day. In fact, he had a relatively good one. 

There is no trigger other than his mere existence. His exhausting, futile,  _ worthless _ existence. 

His professor finally releases the class. His heart finally calms down. 

Students file out of the classroom, Jungkook along with them, but he keeps to the side, knowing full well he’s walking too slowly for the slew of people. He steadies himself, focusing on everything else around him. The sounds. The smells. The people. He breathes in the fresh air, remembering that not everything is bad in the world. He feels his heart finally slip into a normal beat, but that doesn’t stop his mind from being  _ so damn loud _ . 

Jungkook just wants to be home. Somewhere he can hide. His haven. 

His feet carry him deftly, and he’s opening the apartment door before he knows it, not even really remember getting there; he only remembers  _ needing _ to get there. But now that he’s there, away from the prying eyes of people, his desperate urge to cry, to shake, to scream, to let everything out of him, dissipates, and he’s even more frustrated than before. His emotions swim around beneath the surface of his skin, refusing to come forward, forcing him to endure it. 

He flips on a light and stares at the empty apartment, offering a solace that both entices him and mocks him. His eyes notice a few of his boyfriend’s things tossed around, evidence of his previous presence. They seem to mock him too, as if saying,  _ “You don’t really deserve him.” _

Jungkook knows he doesn’t. 

He cleans up, hoping that removing them from site―the hoodie, the scarf, the book―will help his mind shut up for a bit. But the effort exhausts him, and he sits back on the couch, looking around scornfully, knowing full well he had only cleaned for maybe seven minutes before giving up in defeat. 

Nothing is right. Nothing feels right. Nothing sits right. 

A slight pang hits his stomach, drawing his attention. He realizes he hasn’t eaten all day―forgot breakfast and lunch, and his body hates him for it. He stews for a minute or two, tossing around pros and cons, mostly trying to push down the hunger because he really doesn’t feel he deserves a meal. He hasn’t done  _ anything _ today. There’s no point. No point at all. 

But his stomach wins and he’s up in the kitchen, poking around for an easy meal. Everything looks woefully unappetizing, causing him to hiss in anger. If only he weren’t so fucked up all the time, then this wouldn’t be an issue. Why couldn’t he be more like Yoongi? So good? So kind? So  _ not _ messed up? He didn’t deserve Yoongi. 

Jungkook settles on instant ramen, not because he particularly wants it, but because it was the easiest thing to make. The scent of the soup wafts in the air, filling up his nostrils and making his mouth water. The hunger finally settles in and he eats greedily, slurping until there’s nothing left. 

He regrets it immediately afterward. 

He looks at the empty bowl in disgust, holding his stomach. He shouldn’t have done that. He didn’t deserve that. He would get fat. He’s ugly. He can already feel the bloating in his stomach, and he wants to throw up, but he shoves the urge away, knowing full well that it would just make it worse. 

He cleans up the bowl before retreating into his bedroom, crawling underneath the covers of his blanket. His mind  _ screams _ at him in protest―reminds him of the million other things he needs to be doing instead―but he ignores it, the call of his bed too enticing to resist. 

Sleep overtakes him easily, only because he can’t sleep properly anymore, and he welcomes it―the temporary escape from reality. 

He dreams good dreams, as he always does during midday naps, that take him to far off, wonderful places. Sometimes they’re places that don’t exist, full of magic and mystery, a warranted break from his mundane life. Other times they’re places he knows, places he’s familiar with, but places that are different because  _ he’s _ different. Usually Yoongi is there with him too. 

But, like all good things, his dreams have to come to an end. Jungkook has to wake up. 

It’s dark outside when he does, and he groans in annoyance, hating himself for falling asleep. He always tells himself he won’t, always tells himself that he’ll do his work first and then go to sleep at a reasonable hour. It never happens. Useless.

Normal people would be reenergized after a four hour nap, but not Jungkook. No, he’s still groggy, his body moving only two seconds faster than his mind―and it’s not all that fast at all. He looks back at his bed, knowing how easy it would be for him to slip back under the covers and drift off again. Forget everything. 

Instead, his phone goes off, reminding him that there’s a real world out there, and it’s not stopping for him. 

**Jimin-ssi**

_ r u awake _

_ Yeah. _

_ lol 4 hours today! _ _   
_ _ have you done the calc hw yet _

_ Fuck _ _   
_ _ I forgot that existed _

_ what about gov? _

_ Sskgjhskjhg _

_ forgot that too? _

_ Don’t I always. I’m always fucking falling asleep _

_ don’t worry, you’ll wing it and it’ll be fine lmao you always do _

_ Yeah _

_ r u with Yoongi _

_ No _

_ oh _ __   
_ i thought you were _ _   
_ __ said he had plans with you tonight

_ Oh _ __   
_ Fuck _ __   
_ Yeah _ __   
_ I was supposed to meet him _ _   
_ __ Fuck

_ lmao _

Jungkook scrambles to call Yoongi, wanting to cry with irritation. He did this to himself. “Yoongi?” he says when the line clicks. 

“Hey, Kook, I was just about to call you―”

“I know, I’m so fucking sorry. I fell asleep again,” Jungkook explains, “and I haven’t done any of my homework yet and…” 

“Ah, it’s okay, babe,” Yoongi says, but Jungkook knows he’s disappointed. Probably even angry. Jungkook told him he would get his work done and he hasn’t. An uncomfortable pain settles in his gut, reminding him what a mess he is. “I’ll walk you to class tomorrow morning.” 

“Don’t you have class?”

“I can be late.” 

Jungkook bites his lip, forcing himself to breathe and keep his voice steady. “No, I don’t want you doing all that for me. Don’t miss class.”

“But I wanna see you―”

“What about after class? We end at the same time tomorrow, right?” 

Yoongi pauses before relenting. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Jungkook says before hanging up. He rubs his face, wanting to slap his past self. The sound of Yoongi’s disappointed voice motivates Jungkook, encouraging him to sit down and finish his work so he can see his boyfriend. He always feels safer with him. If he gets it done in a timely fashion he can surprise him.

But one look at his work has Jungkook rethinking that entire plan. 

It’s too much; there’s too much. He can’t, he  _ can’t _ ―no, he can do this. It’s fine. He’s fine. He can do this. Just one problem at a time. He paid attention today; he knew the lesson. It’s  _ fine _ . Music in.  _ Focus, Jungkook.  _

He takes a deep breath, music blasting in his ears, and works through the problems just fine. No issue―and then he gets to the seventh problem. He can’t figure it out, and frustration bubbles under his skin. 

**Taehyungie**

_ Hey _ __   
_ Have you done #7 on the calc work? _ __   
_ I know prof said it might be on the test _ __   
_ But I don’t get it. _ _   
_ __ Please help

_ Hey _ __   
_ Yeah, that one’s easy _ __   
_ Just look at the example he did in class _ _   
_ __ Follow the trig pattern and divide by the coefficient

Jungkook looks between the texts, his work, and the class example. It still doesn’t make sense. What, is he dumb?

_ I still don’t get it. I’m getting the wrong answer _

_ How? _ _   
_ _ It’s really easy _

Jungkook could scream. Maybe it was easy… for  _ smart _ people. Taehyung would never understand that. Taehyung is smart. He isn’t stupid like Jungkook. Jungkook slams his pencil down in anger before shooting his friend a quick text.

_ Thanks. Got it. _

He packs up his schoolwork, giving up for the night. There’s no point. He’ll never get it.  _ Cause I’m too fucking stupid.  _ He scowls at his backpack as if that’ll make it better. His hands shake as he trudges to the bathroom, figuring he might as well get ready for bed. He looks at his reflection and scowls again, hating what he sees. His toothbrush flies at the mirror, but it doesn’t do anything but bounce back uselessly, leaving him to stare at his stupid, pitiful self. 

He brushes his teeth in the dark. 

He climbs into bed and lays there in bed, futilely trying to fall asleep. He rolls around a couple of times before settling on his back, staring at nothing in the darkness. 

The urge to cry finally overtakes him, and honestly, it’s a welcome relief. 

Jungkook breaths heavy, soft whimpers escaping his lips as tears flow freely down his face. Despite living alone, he tries his best to keep quiet, an ingrained habit after years of silence. His body shakes, wracked with emotions―too many emotions. Sorrow. Anger. Frustration. Hate. Exhaustion. 

He resolves to cry in his bathroom, not deserving the comfort of his bed. He leans against the tub in the dark, his soft sobs echoing off the tile floor. 

_ Why couldn’t he just get it together? Why couldn’t he just fix himself? Why, why, why? I fucking hate myself,  _ he thinks.  _ Life would be better if I would just die.  _

And then, once he’s done crying―and this is always the worst part―there’s just… nothing. He’s numb all over again. He doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t want to live. He just wants to… cease. 

Jungkook blinks angrily when he stops crying, and he slowly feels his emotions level out. He’s angry because now everything is going back to how it always is: nothing. He’s too used to feeling  _ nothing _ all the time. He hates the emptiness that comes after crying. He doesn’t feel relieved; he feels hollow. 

He clings to the tub, suddenly feeling tired but not having the energy to move. His eyelids start to droop, and he knows full well that he could fall asleep right here. His body would be twisted and sore, hating him in the morning for it, but he can’t really bring himself to care. 

Suddenly there’s movement, and the door opens quietly, causing him to jump in fear, puffy eyes looking up. A warm face greets him, etched with concern as it kneels beside him. 

“Kook?” Yoongi says, and Jungkook reels, embarrassed at being found this way. He wipes away his tears quickly, smiling up at his boyfriend as if he can pretend that everything is fine. 

“S-Shit, you scared me,” Jungkook stutters. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” he replies, furiously shaking his head. Yoongi gives him a soft smile and picks him up, knowing full well he doesn’t have the energy to refuse. Jungkook gives a faint whine as he lays his head in Yoongi’s chest, but that’s the only sound he makes before he’s deposited on the bed. Yoongi crawls in next to him, holding him close. 

“Talk to me,” he whispers, placing feather-light kisses on Jungkook’s neck. “I’m here.” Jungkook bites his lip, too afraid to speak, not trusting his voice. “Come on,” Yoongi coaxes. “You’re not alone, remember? I’m here for you. I’m always here for you.” 

Jungkook shudders, turning around to face him, eyes downcast. “I just… rough day.” 

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi says as he kisses his nose, causing Jungkook to scrunch his face. 

“Just couldn’t…” Jungkook chokes on his voice. “Wish you had someone better ‘s all. Deserve better,” he mumbles. 

“Oh, baby,” Yoongi whispers, wrapping Jungkook tightly in his arms. “I don’t want anyone but you. You’re perfect.” He kisses the top of Jungkook’s head. “Everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Coulda’ had someone not so” ―he sniffs― “fucked up.” 

Yoongi laughs, gentle strokes on Jungkook’s arm. “We’re all a little fucked up, huh? You could have someone better than me, you know. But you put up with me.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re  _ you _ ,” Jungkook whines. “There’s no one better.”

“And there’s no one better than  _ you _ ,” Yoongi retorts. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Just wish I didn’t feel this way,” Jungkook mutters, though he feels significantly better now, not realizing how badly he needed the reassurance. 

“It happens. It’s okay, baby. Just remember that you can always come talk to me, okay? I love you so much. Wouldn’t want you to go at it alone.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Love you, Kook.”

“Love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> lmao wish i had this in my life.


End file.
